


An Unclassifiable Different

by kingslayersrogue



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Not really THAT sinful, S5 AU, character exploration, dark!abby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 15:42:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13321320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingslayersrogue/pseuds/kingslayersrogue
Summary: Everything is different.There are the things he knows that are bad different. The constant fights between clans or the oxygen issue. The number of kids he sees walking around dazed, or adults drunk, too lost in the wreckage of the world. Those are bad different.There are things that he knows are good different. Octavia’s leadership growing stronger, the clans starting to fall in line just enough to create hope. The few children he passed by, still unburdened by the truth of the world. Smiling and laughing as children should.There are also things he hasn’t had the chance to classify yet, namely:Abby.





	An Unclassifiable Different

**Author's Note:**

> Bear with me guys, I haven't written in almost a full month and I am rusty to say the least. It's a little jumbled and as always, not as sinful as I'd like but it's progress. 
> 
> Thank you to AlStat for the inspiration for this one, you terrible influence you.

Everything is different.

There are the things he knows that are bad different. The constant fights between clans or the oxygen issue. The number of kids he sees walking around dazed, or adults drunk, too lost in the wreckage of the world. Those are bad different.

There are things that he knows are good different. Octavia’s leadership growing stronger, the clans starting to fall in line just enough to create hope. The few children he passed by, still unburdened by the truth of the world. Smiling and laughing as children should. 

There are also things he hasn’t had the chance to classify yet, namely:

_ Abby. _

After the death wave, after waking up realizing she was still breathing. Still  _ here, _ she was……different. Marcus had expected anger, anger that he had disrespected her wishes, anger that she was separated from her daughter once again. Just  _ anger. _

He did not expect a near 180 of her personality.

The old Abby was still there of course, but buried under new complex layers even he hadn’t figured out yet. The hopeful doctor always pushing for the better way out of things had fallen victim to a world of unimaginable grief and sorrow. The new Abby was a different he couldn’t categorize. 

At the end of every week, Octavia held meetings in their newly minted council chambers. Ambassadors from each of the bunker sections came and spoke about progress and convened on matters and issues. Most of the ambassadors just filed in quietly but you could always tell when Abby was about to enter by the sound of boots marching down the hallway. Gone were the faded jeans and the customary blue doctor’s coat. Gone were the smart ponytails with just a few wispy strands framing her face. Gone were the smiles and waves she would give to passerbys in the halls. 

On her feet, she wore a pair of old guard’s boots, gifted from one of the arkers for saving their lives. Always polished to a shine and perfectly laced. Her legs were clad in tight dark fabric, fit to the skin and worn with time. Topping it all off was a dark leather jacket, perfect fitting and low-cut. It was such  _ un-Abby _ clothing, dark and particularly scary, it always gave him pause, for multiple reasons.

It wasn't just her clothing but her manner too.

She commanded medical with a fire. Barking orders, making snap decisions and taking no shit. She earned such a reputation with the grounders that she treated, the guards set to keep peace in medical assigned themselves as her personal entourage. As for the arkers, they feared more than revered her, but the respect remained. 

As for their relationship, it wasn’t gone, but it wasn’t the same either. They still shared a room, they still kissed and touched but that was different too.

Rougher, harder,  _ different _ . He didn’t really mind that though, despite the ache it left in his scalp or the hair he had lost.

Something had gone wrong today, he could read it in the brutal tones of her voice as she ordered him to his knees. Something had gone wrong and she needed to take back power, and who was he to deny her? 

She smiles, bending down and taking his chin in hand, “Feeling cooperative today aren’t we?” He’s not even ashamed of how quickly head shakes in affirmative, it makes her smile and pat his cheek. 

Both hands hold his head, sliding into his hair to run through and tug at the strands, making him sigh. Her white streaked hair cascades around her shoulders, brushing against his skin, her neck begs to be kissed but he holds still. He doesn’t have permission to touch her yet. Abby pulls his head forward, lowering her mouth to his ear, “You wanna have some fun?” There’s a hint of danger in her voice, but the kind of danger that’s just enough it's fun. He nods again and she fists the lapels of his jacket in her hands and pulls him into a bruising kiss. For a moment he’s unsteady on his feet and they stumble into the wall, mouths still fused together. 

Her hands ran under his shirt, nails carving red streaks into the skin of his back making his hips buck forward. He moved his hands from her waist to the zipper of her jacket. The jacket that had been tormenting him for weeks, exposing her chest just enough to create problems. She pushed him back before he could slide the garment off her shoulders, guiding him back until his knees hit the edge of the mattress. “You first.” Marcus tugged off his shirt while her hands went to work on his belt, pulling it out of the loops and swiftly unbuttoning his pants. Tugging them down his legs until he stepped out of them and kicked them aside. “Now you,” he tried, voice oddly shaky. “Ask nicely.” Abby fires back, kissing the breath out of his lungs.

He gulps, hands shaking just the slightest with the urge to  _ touch, _ “ _ Please.” _ Abby hums, raking her eyes over his body, lingering on the bulge behind the thing gray fabric of his underwear. He shivers but holds still. She grabs his hands and places them on her chest, stepping forward until the space between them closes. Laying open-mouthed kisses on his neck and jaw before tugging his ear between her teeth, whispering “Do it.” 

There’s no finesse in the way he tears at her clothes, struggling to take everything off without taking his mouth from hers. Wild, desperate,  _ hungry.  _

Her hands only stop him when he hooks his thumbs into her waistband, seconds from baring her completely. Something shifts, her grip on his wrists is gentle, the way she wraps his arms around her body is even moreso. “I love you,” She whispers softly. She gazes at him lovingly, eyes soft and serene. She looks like the old Abby and he smiles. He always knew deep down she was still the same Abby,  _ his  _ Abby. Loving, compassionate, morally good Abby. The dark clad Abby was just a shade of herself she wore when she needed to shelter herself. It was armor. A concept he was familiar with himself. It helped to be able to put on a jacket, some boots or whatever and change into a different person. To push past the tolls of life and become almost a different person, even if for just a bit.

“I love you, too,” he breathed, pulling her against his chest and holding her there.


End file.
